


Sorry that I Think I'm Not Enough

by Winterhearth



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Angst, Bob and Alicia Zimmermann are doing their best, Character Study, Demisexual Jack Zimmermann, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Jack Zimmermann Backstory, Jack Zimmermann's Overdose, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Camilla Collins/Jack Zimmermann - Freeform, Past Kent "Parse" Parson/Jack Zimmermann, Sad Jack Zimmermann, anxiété, characteristics of an emotionally abusive past relationship, if my math is correct, implication of sex between minors, mature to be safe, that's not completely relevant but maybe it is idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:01:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23695858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterhearth/pseuds/Winterhearth
Summary: Or: Five Times Jack Zimmermann was called Needy, and One Time he Wasn't.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 24
Kudos: 221





	Sorry that I Think I'm Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Title Lyric: Needy, Ariana Grande 
> 
> Disclaimers: 
> 
> I genuinely do not think any major or recurring character in Check, Please! is a bad person and do not intend to demonize any of them (except sports analysts). The antagonist has always been Jack’s anxiety. (and also maybe sports analysts). 
> 
> Thank you Ngozi, the creator and owner of these characters and their beautiful story.

1\. 

“I just don’t understand… when is this whole thing gonna run its course? It’s becoming quite an ordeal now, isn’t it?”

Jack picked at his chicken as he avoided eye contact with his father, who was working himself up now as he spoke with his mother. Jack was not included in the conversation despite being in practically the same room as it, and despite it being about him entirely. 

Papa was disappointed, somehow, and the details were beyond him, but ever since he could remember, disappointed was the last thing he wanted his Papa to be. He just pretended to eat his dinner, pretended not to listen, and pretended not to be a problem; but he couldn’t eat a bite.

“He misses practices, he’s gotta talk to people, and now he needs medication… I mean, does he really need the medication? Seems like overkill.” Bob put his hands on his hips and faced out the window with a deep sigh, as if this was the beginning of some grand scheme to ruin all his well-made plans. “It’s just- he’s twelve, for god’s sake, don’t they all kinda get like this?”

“Bob…” Alicia leaned against her respective counter, tired of trying to explain her case to her husband, and it showed as she rested her forehead in her lithe fingertips. “No, it’s not something that’s going to go away,” she said in a tone much more hushed than his, her lips so close together as she spoke, aware of her son sitting in clear sight at their dining room table. “...As much as we want it to.” Her voice shook, because it was almost painful that the man she’d been married to for so many years didn’t understand the illness that affected not only her son, but her, for as long as he’d known and loved her. 

Jack dropped his fork onto his plate, pushed his dinner away from him, and took a moment to just rest his head in his hands before everything would start to spin again. He felt like it was coming, but it was possible the medicine he took was actually doing something. Somehow he still felt like he was going to throw up if he even looked at another bite of food. He was gasping in surprise before he realized his mother was by his side, with her hand on his shoulder. Everything they were saying now just sounded like rushing in his ears. He was a difficult child. He needed all this help and attention. He didn’t want to be any more burdensome than the other kids he knew, who could just live and laugh and get along and play hockey and be fine at the end of it, without needing to go be alone, without needing to take a pill or count their breaths. Jack was just… more. He was high maintenance. He knew that would ruin his whole chance at being a hockey star, probably, because hockey stars didn’t get nervous or take pills or get upset, they just played hockey. 

“Jack… darling,” his mother’s sweet voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up at her with teary eyes. “Jack. Do you want me to make you something else?” she asked, hiding her heartbreak, just combing her manicured fingernails through her boy’s hair. It made him feel safe, and it made him think clearer. “What do you want, love… I’ll let you have ice cream,” she proposed with a smile, and her hand paused on his soft cheek. 

“Alicia…” Bob grumbled, and came over to stand on Jack’s other side. He crossed his arms, but there was something like concern in his face and in his being as he looked down at his son. The towering man swallowed whatever it was down. “...Don’t make him anything else. What you made is fine, lots of protein... He doesn’t need special treatment. Do you, buddy?” Bob asked, and his eyes pleaded his son to answer affirmatively. There was a bit more desperation there than there would have been in those of a father who was simply stern and angry. 

Jack just looked up at him with his sad sunken eyes, much too weary for a twelve-year-old, and then back to his mother. 

“...No, maman. I don’t need anything,” he promised her, and wiped away a tear with his sleeve before it could fall. 

He wanted them to be happy; at this age, he knew that. That he loved them, and for them to be happy, to be happy with him, he couldn’t always show what he really felt. So he forced down a bite of chicken and pressed on a smile. 

2\. 

Kent Parson. Kent Parson. Kent Parson. 

All of a sudden, there was a kid. Who was just as good as Jack at hockey. Who talked to him like they were already friends the day they met, who didn’t make fun of him for being weird or quiet or for being funny-looking even though he was growing into his misshapen looks and body every day. Who was much more charming and socially adept than Jack could ever hope to be. And they stuck to each other like glue. 

They played together and spent all their time together and stayed up too late the night before tournaments together until all Jack could think about when they weren’t together was Kent Parson.

Everything was Kent Parson, and everything was perfect. Jack was addicted. 

Jack would find out later that most things that were dangerously addictive were not always good for you, and were sometimes downright detrimental, but at that time, that concept was hardly a twinkle in his eye. 

His relationship with Kenny was like his relationship with hockey. He fixated on it. It felt so good, but it hurt him, too. The sting of it was always sated by a gleaming smile and Parse’s relenting presence, which Jack needed in his bloodstream to function. He trusted it to keep him together. And he relied on it perhaps a bit too heavily. 

Because one day, Hockey’s Best Duo would be split. They weren’t brothers, and this wasn’t an adoption agency; they were the top two picks in the NHL draft, and the first two teams that could snatch them up would do it as soon as they had their chance. That date was fast approaching, and Jack knew it, but detoxing from Kent was just not an option. 

Jack pondered the fact that he wasn’t ready for that day to come one night in early June of that summer, when the first stars poked through the tree branches overhead. When they had taken a blanket into the woods behind Jack’s home, and his mother still believed that they were “going exploring” because to her, seventeen was still innocent. It wasn’t quite as comfortable as a guest room in a Billet house, but it was by no means worse, and they didn’t have to be as quiet. Sometimes he liked being as far away from everything as possible. Even though when he was alone with Kent like this, it was just like being on the ice. Their souls flying through the air above everything, perfectly in sync, while their bodies danced together on the ground. 

And they never even had to say a word to each other. Sometimes Jack wanted to. Especially after. But he’d convinced himself that they were so connected that they didn’t really need to talk about anything. 

Jack reached across the blanket to touch the bare flesh over Kenny’s chest, and slowly moved closer to him. Kent tensed when Jack rolled to rest his head on his shoulder, and brushed his hand off of him like a bug. “Stop.” 

Jack did as he was told, and moved away, but his face twisted in confusion, as if to ask… why not? Why not something as simple as this, when we’ve done literally everything else. Why can’t you just give me this moment when other moments like these might be limited? But he didn’t say any of that, and maybe that had always been their issue. 

“I was just-” 

“God, Zimmermann, you’re so fucking needy,” Kent chirped, but there was a fire behind it, like Kent hated him, like Kent hated this. Like Kent wished Jack were someone else, or this was less complicated. And the blonde sat up after that, holding his knees for a moment before he reached for his shirt. 

“...I’m sorry. I just wanted to-”

“That’s not what we are, though. I thought you knew that. God, Jack, you always do this. I give you an inch and you take a goddamn mile, eh? Whatever, come on… let’s go, I’m starting to get bit up out here.” 

Jack sat frozen for a moment, stunned, and eventually Kent sighed and helped Jack into his shirt, too. “C’mon, Zimms. I didn’t mean it like that. Let’s get inside.” 

Maybe they were just kids, and neither of them knew what they were doing, and they were both dealing with the imminence of something that neither of them were ready for. But Jack knew one way or another, he was saying goodbye to Kent, and he’d never be as good a player as he was without him. On top of that, Jack was starting to think that no one except Kenny would put up with someone as demanding and complicated as he was. 

3.

“...and it’s just devastating, I can’t imagine what the family must be going through.”

For two months, Jack had been learning how to use coping skills, maintain a healthy lifestyle, and stay sober. One of the most important things, they’d stressed in rehab, was keeping to a schedule. That would somehow make you not want to do drugs. 

Jack had never wanted to ‘do drugs.’ He’d wanted to succeed. He wanted to make his parents proud, and he wanted to be a good hockey player. He wanted to be the best and live up to all the expectations. Taking pills had simply helped him do these things. Had helped him feel normal. 

So, he kept his schedule, anything that would make him normal, anything that would get him back to playing hockey again, even though his parents told him that they thought stepping away for a while might be a good thing. Maybe if he could show them he could stop shaking and hyperventilating and sweating even without the pills, he could play hockey again. So, he ate his meals and went on walks and went to his appointments and did his chores. 

He’d made his own entry to his new ‘schedule’ at the end of the day; it involved hiding under his covers with his iPod Touch so his parents couldn’t hear, and watching old clips from sports networks and websites and web shows. Watching coverage on his overdose from months prior and what it meant for the draft. Because Jack needed to know what people thought about him. He knew he wouldn’t find approval from any two men in ties sitting at a desk with a greenscreen background and talking sports, but he needed to hear it anyway. 

“I agree, it is devastating, Todd. It’s just so puzzling to me, though--I guess I’ll never understand this stuff. But it doesn’t make sense to me, how a kid who has everything, could fall to this fate. He was lined up for a perfect career. It’s a heartbreaking loss for the league, but if this is how he reacts to a little stress, then maybe it’s a good thing he never actually got drafted in.” 

Jack’s mouth hung open in shock, while the hosts nodded and agreed with each other. 

“I mean, yeah, I guess that’s a good point. Last thing any team wants is that sort of high-maintenance player.”

He could hardly hear the rest of the video through the rushing in his ears, but he shut off the device before they could start talking about Kent Parson in the same clip.

4.

Camilla Collins was incredibly nice, Jack thought; she was sweet, she had sunshine in her hair, and listened to him when he talked--watched him with big, brown eyes. 

And he liked being with her. 

He might even like to date her, he told Ransom, who’d informed him that getting coffee together three separate times somewhere other than the dining hall, for reasons unrelated to studying, meant that they were dating. Boring, he was sure to note, but still dating. 

Jack wasn’t even sure she liked him back until she ended up in his bed one night, and even then, he still had doubts. He felt more confident, though, whenever it ended, and she would hold him, and it felt like something he’d been missing all his life. Camilla was strong and muscular and had great reflexes. Good player, would probably be a great person to have on any team, Jack would think to himself. Yet, the intimacy was so much sweeter and gentler than how he’d otherwise known it to be--not that he had much of a frame of reference, but he felt good with her. He even felt he could safely be a bit vulnerable with her. 

He started calling her before his games, because he felt it helped him win. Talking to her would send him to that calm place. She’d call him sometimes, too, before her matches. He thought it was nice they had a ritual. A routine. 

“Jack?” Camilla’s quiet giggle rang like a pretty bell on the other line. “Jack, I was just with you an hour ago, what’s up?”

“Hi… yeah, sorry. It’s just, I’m at Faber, haha. I wanted to get the pre-game call in,” he explained, grinning the whole time where he sat on the loading dock. 

“Ohh, I see,” she responded. “Jack, you have got to be one of the neediest guys I’ve ever met,” she quipped, keeping her voice cheery and playful, so- it wasn’t meant as an insult, right..? Jack was stumped. “...Jack?”

“Uh- haha! Yeah, yeah. I know, right?” he bit his lip, and felt his skin turn hot and prickly. 

“Jack, I actually have to go. Didn’t mean to rush you, but good luck on your game, okay?” she made a kiss sound into the phone, and Jack gave a single ‘bye’ before hanging up. 

He lost the game that night. Two days later, he amicably ended things with Camilla, and they both agreed that it was better for them to focus on their respective goings-on anyways. They said they’d remain friends, and actually did. 

Jack didn’t come out of his room for a couple days except for practices and nobody really thought that that was out of the ordinary for him, so there wasn’t a word about it. 

5.

It was the quiet, rainy evenings that had Jack wondering how the hell he made it so far. He had his dream job. He had a life he could be proud of, that his family could be proud of him for. But best of all, he had someone who loved him, for him. Someone who wanted him around. Who wanted to listen to him; who he liked listening to back. Who wanted to be close to him, emotionally and physically. Who let him put his head in his lap as they read or watched TV during those hours they both had to relax, when they could come together after a long work week. 

Jack never thought he’d have something like this. Someone he could let into his world, someone he could lean on, and ask for help when he needed it. Jack Zimmermann could be vulnerable and open, and feel okay doing it, for the first time in what felt like forever. 

Bitty changed the bandage on the split on his fiancé's cheek, as Jack smiled up at him, where he laid across his thigh. As Bitty smoothed the tape on the fresh dressing over the cut, he bent over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“There you go… I thought I told you not to block any more shots with your face,” he scolded, but his voice was soft and sympathetic. Jack just laughed. 

“Good thing I didn’t, then! It was just high-sticking, Bits. It’s nothing... You know, guys used to get in blood-brawls with each other, and they’d let them back into the same game!” he protested. “Now I get a little cut, and everyone’s up in arms, and I have to sit… Seriously. It’s gonna heal, and you won’t even know it was there,” he promised, reaching up to touch the side of Bitty’s face, stroking his fingers lovingly under his chin. 

“Well… alright,” Bitty sighed. “Just be more careful with that pretty face of yours, and we’ll call it square,” he teased, brushing the pad of his thumb lightly over the medical tape. 

“...Hey, Bits?” Jack started, quietly. “Do you think you could play with my hair?” he requested, eyes already drooping in a state of calm. Bitty chuckled, hand pausing its fussing over his cheek before he moved it up into his dark locks. 

“Well, you are just so needy today, aren’t you?” 

Jack froze, and he stopped breathing for a moment before he even understood why those words struck him so. No matter how Bitty had meant them, no matter how much they dripped with sarcasm, it was lost on him. It sent his mind into a spiral almost instantly. And not one that he felt he could ask Bitty to bring him back up from. 

Jack sat up, and placed his hands on either side of him, stabilizing himself. 

“Actually. I don’t feel very well… I’m going to go lay down for a bit, okay?” he explained shakily, and promptly excused himself back to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. 

He pulled the blankets over his head, fending off a panic that rushed him without warning. Needy. Something he’d never wanted to be. Something he’d worked so hard not to be. He didn’t want to have to need anyone… Had he let himself need Bitty, his friends, his family, too much? Did he get so comfortable that he asked him for too much now? Was Bitty finally going to realize how high-maintenance Jack was, and that he deserved more than just managing the likes of him?

Everything, all of his fears, came flooding back: he wasn’t enough. He was too much. He wasn’t enough. He was too much. And the only possible end result in Jack’s mind, in that moment, was Bitty leaving him. 

Jack closed his eyes, and succumbed to it. 

+1 

Bitty knocked on their bedroom door. 

Normally, he’d give Jack some space if he wanted it, but after ten minutes, something didn’t feel right. 

“Jack…” he sang, forlornly, almost a whine. “What on earth is the matter? Tell me you’re okay, and I’ll leave you alone.” 

The lack of answer was enough license for him to actually enter the room, and take a few hurried steps over to the bed. He all but jumped on the pile under the blankets. 

“Jack…? Jack!” he pulled the covers away, and found him there, shaking and curled in on himself. “Honey, what-” 

Given how much they’d been through, how strong they’d become, Bitty found it hard to comprehend that Jack could be insecure anymore about asking him for help. So he was confused. 

“Are you panicking?” he asked, just to be sure, and got an arm under him, coaxing him into his grasp. _I’m usually alone, when it happens. This helps._ Bitty couldn’t help but flash back to that conversation. Ever since then, Jack had sought him out. So why would he run away now..? Had he stopped needing Bitty? Stopped wanting him when he wasn’t okay? 

“Bits…” he got out, shakily. “I’m too needy.” 

“What? What are you-” Bitty’s face screwed up in confusion, until he made the connection. “...Jack,” he started, steadily. “That’s… not what you’re worried about, is it? Please tell me I didn’t say something wrong. I was… I was _kidding,_ honey. I thought that was obvious. I’m sorry if it wasn’t, I’m so sorry,” he apologized. Jack started to calm as Bitty talked him down, but Bitty knew it was a process. It might as well have been a monster that had taken over Jack’s brain that he was talking to, and not his rational, level-headed boyfriend. He’d done this before, had to constantly reassure him until it passed. _You’re not a failure._ Or _We’re all proud of you, no matter what._ Or simply, _You’re loved._ It broke his heart that Jack could think any of these things about himself were not true. But one thing he knew, is that if he had to tell him a million times before he believed it, not a second of that time was a waste to Bitty. 

“Hey. You’re not too needy. You’re the least needy person I know, Jack…” he told him, and a sad little laugh came through, because it was almost amusing, how stubborn he could be sometimes, about asking for help. “Jack…” He continued on, promising him that there was nothing wrong with him.

Bitty felt him calm down, before too long, and he sat with him quietly, giving him a chance to regroup and catch his breath. For his heartbeat to slow back down. Bitty played with his hair. 

“...Bitty,” he spoke first. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t.” 

“No- I’m sorry, because there was no way you were supposed to know that was a trigger. I don’t even think _I_ knew it was,” he admitted. “It’s just… I don’t know. It’s odd.” 

“It is. Who on earth told you you were needy?”

“Uh- haha... I guess, a lot of people, actually,” he realized. “It’s a long story.” 

“Well. I would like to listen to it.”


End file.
